


Wide Eyed

by quintheowl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Self-Harm, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i just wanted some klangst, klance, klangst, srsly i shouldnt write self indulgent fics, voltron college!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 22:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14146110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quintheowl/pseuds/quintheowl
Summary: Keith's soulmate self-harms. He doesn't really know what to do.Inspired from "Wide Eyed" by Billy Lockett.





	Wide Eyed

**Author's Note:**

> please know that i am in no way glamorizing self harm. its a painful subject and my goal was not in any way to make light of it. most of the things from this fic are based on experience - either mine or someone close to me. also it’s 230a and I wanted an angsty Klance fic and I’ve read them all. pls dont send me hate.

Keith wakes up to the stinging skin on his thighs. 

He winces, the pain minimal, but surprisingly sharp, as he rolls out of bed to check the time. 6:04 am. Way too early. 

It isn't until he's in the bathroom and drops his boxers to relieve himself that he realizes why his skin feels so marred. 

His upper thighs, concealed by the fabric of his underwear, are covered in cuts. Some are deeper than others, but almost all are scabbed over. He frowns, perplexed and slightly alarmed. What the hell? Did he scratch himself in his sleep?

He carefully bandages the cuts as best he can before returning to the room and sitting on the edge of his bed, listening as his roommate Shiro snores soundly, still blissfully asleep. 

Keith chews on his fingernails as he debates his next course of action. He ultimately decides to try to figure this the fuck out, because seriously, what the hell? He opens his laptop and clicks through another tab. 

 

Shiro wakes up to him still furiously typing questions into the web browser an hour before class, Keith's brow puckered in concentration and his hasty bandages peeking through the edge of his boxers. 

 

"I'm telling you, Pidge, I don't know what it is! I woke up to find 'em fucking lining my thighs! What am I supposed to think?" 

Keith knew his friends wouldn't believe him, that he didn't do it to himself, but he finds himself frustrated at their disbelief nonetheless. 

They're sitting at the campus cafeteria, occupying their regular table with everyone else giving them a wide berth. Pidge has flung her jacket to the seat next to her for Hunk, and Allura's done something similar with her purse for Shiro. Lance, sitting beside Pidge and across Keith, is cautiously picking at his burger. 

Keith finds himself next to Allura, who's look of concern is becoming particularly irritating. 

"Keith, if you're feeling overwhelmed, you should go to counseling," she starts, and Keith has to grit his teeth. "I'm NOT overwhelmed. I'm telling you: I woke up to the cuts, and I DIDN'T do it. I'm not cutting, guys. I'm pretty sure you'd know if I was."

The girls still look skeptical, so Keith finds himself staring at Lance instead, who's barely said a word. In fact, upon closer inspection, it looks like Lance's hair has gone unwashed, and the bags under his eyes look darker than normal. But before Keith can say anything, Hunk and Shiro arrive at the table. 

"Keith's cutting!" Pidge begins, and Keith groans, openly disgusted.

"I AM NOT CUTTING," he growls. As expected, Shiro begins to launch into a lecture, and Hunk throws the same expression Allura has stitched across her face. 

Keith is at the end of his rope when Lance stands suddenly in the middle of Keith's intervention, wrapping his unfinished burger and stuffing it into his bag. A hush falls over the group, and Keith finds himself frowning. 

"Lance, you okay?" He asks, and Lance blinks, staring at everyone before cracking into a smile. 

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. I'm just heading to class."

Shiro glances at his watch. "Don't you have Professor Coran's philosophy?" Lance nods, still smiling. There's something off about his expression, something fabricated. A pit of dread begins to bloom in Keith's gut. 

"Coran's doesn't start for like, another half-hour," Keith points out, and Lance shrugs, swinging his bag on his shoulder. "Got something to take care of," he says. He gives a half-wave as he walks off. "See you guys later."

To Keith's surprise, the rest of the group recover quickly. New conversations begin, and Keith is still stuck staring after Lance. 

"Did he seem a little off to you?" He asks Hunk as they pack up to head to class. Hunk shrugs, tossing the wrapper of his fish sandwich in the trash. "He's Lance. He goes through mood swings all the time. Try being his roommate for a while."

Keith should trust Hunk, who happens to be Lance's oldest friend. 

He can't shake the feeling that something is very wrong. 

 

Lance is ten minutes late to Coran's philosophy class - something that does not go unnoticed. 

"Ah, Lance!" Coran belts as Lance tries to shut the door as quietly as possible. "Thank you for joining us today!" 

Lance grins, flexing his left bicep. "Thought I'd have a little fun," he says, and Keith scoffs with the rest of the class. As Coran jumps back into his spiel, Lance takes his seat next to Keith, setting his bag at their feet. Keith can't help but notice that despite the heat of the lecture hall, Lance's cargo jacket is hanging off his frame. 

"You cold?" Keith asks, and Lance shakes his head, but doesn't reply. 

The lecture is long and boring. Halfway through, a girl named Nyma asks Coran something off-topic, and by this point, both Keith and Lance have completely tuned out.  
Keith is scribbling furiously on the corner of his notebook when he hears something that breaks him out of his stupor. 

"-so powerful that they can feel their partner's injuries as they happen."

Keith nearly jolts, his notebook easily forgotten, and concentrates on Coran's words. 

"Of course, this is all just speculation, but the bonds between soulmates are a sacred thing. They say any wound, no matter how big or small, that happens on one partner will manifest itself on the other."

Keith leans back in his chair, his fingers absentmindedly running over his cuts. Is that what happened? Could his soulmate be the one doing this to them?

"So hypothetically, how can soulmates communicate with each other?" Nyma presses, and Coran twirls his mustache contemplatively. "Soulmate bonds are expressed through skin. If the skin is changed enough on one partner, the other will be able to see it."

"What's wrong?" Lance whispers suddenly, and Keith pries his eyes away from Coran to glance at him, confused. "Huh?"

Lance nods to Keith's thighs, where his jeans are thick enough to hide the bandages and his fingers are still running over them. "You okay?"

Keith nods. "Yeah," he says, stilling his hands. "I think I just figured something out." 

Satisfied, Lance hums and goes back to burying his head in his arms. Keith is still frowning at his lap when he sees a faint mark on the underneath of his arm. Lifting it wonderingly, he sees the faint outline of a butterfly. 

He has a suspicion he knows what it is, and he shows Coran after class. 

Coran nods, his expression suddenly heavy. "It's a self-harm mechanism," Coran says. "It's called 'The Butterfly Project.' The idea is that a butterfly is drawn on the skin. You're not allowed to cut while the butterfly is visible, as cutting would harm the butterfly, so it forces the person to think hard before doing it."

"I think my soulmate cuts," Keith tells Coran, at the expense of feeling silly for believing a superstition, but Coran offers a sad smile. He pulls up the sleeve of his sweater, exposing faint, horizontal scars lining his skin, and two deep vertical lines on each arm. 

"So did mine."

 

Coran tells Keith that the best he can do is to be there for his soulmate. "If you try to do anything drastic, you may lose them forever," Coran warns, and Keith has a sinking suspicion Coran is speaking from experience. 

So Keith invests in a high-grade permanent marker and deepens the outline on his butterfly. Then he draws another one on the other arm and writes "I'm here" on his left thigh. 

For the next two weeks, the cuts heal without giving way to new ones. 

 

Keith feels sick when he wakes up one October morning with slashes down his legs, slicing the already healing scars open. His heart breaks when he sees "I'm sorry," scribbled on his stomach. 

He cries that night. He doesn't know what to reply. 

 

It's a vicious cycle: Keith would wake up to cuts. He would draw butterflies all around his skin for the next week or so. The cuts would stop. Keith would start to relax. Then he'd wake up to the scars slashed open. 

Eventually, he becomes so frustrated he punches the mirror in the bathroom. Shiro opens the door that night to find Keith sobbing, his right hand and thighs bleeding, fragments of mirror laughing at them from the floor. 

 

Two weeks later, Keith discovers his soulmate. 

It's snowing, the first snow of the season, and he and Lance are outside, hats on, mittens secure, and scarves wrapped tightly around their necks. 

Lance laughs. Genuine, boisterous, Lance laughs. It's been months since he's seen Lance this at peace. With finals finally over, everyone can relax, though the change isn't as drastic in everyone else as it is in Lance. 

Furthermore, his soulmate has stopped cutting. The unspoken for now ticks like a bomb in his brain, but Keith ignores it. 

He can hope. He feels so at ease.

Keith grabs a hold of a tree branch to catapult the snow and winces. He'd grabbed it with his bad hand, which he had forgotten was still healing. 

He leans against the tree instead, content on watching Lance. Lance - a Floridan by heart - had never seen snow before. He seems fascinated by every flake, and Keith is fascinated with watching him. 

Then Lance pulls off his right mitten, and Keith feels like he's been sucker-punched in the gut. 

Lance's knuckles are bruised and scarred, evidence of stitchery still displayed on the healing skin. It wouldn't be such a jarring sight if it also wasn't familiar. 

Before he knows what he's doing, Keith is striding over. He takes Lance's hand in his, ignoring the way Lance jumps at his suddenness, or the way he feels electric where their skin touches. 

"Keith, wha-" Keith shushes him with a look, and gingerly inspects his hand. It's too familiar. There's no way. 

Keith pulls of his glove, showing his own knuckles, and Lance visibly pales. Keith can feel the shift of the atmosphere. He watches as tears fill Lance's eyes. He forces his knees not to buckle. 

"I-I'm sorry," Lance murmurs, his lip quivering in the effort not to cry. Keith furiously wraps him in his arms, cradling his head and reveling in the way Lance grips his coat like a lifeline. 

"I'm here," Keith tells him, relieved, guilty, upset, elated all in one. "I'm here."

 

Keith kisses Lance's scars that night. He shows Lance his mirroring marks and Lance bursts into tears and apologies again. Keith forgives him immediately (there's no way he can hold a grudge,) and makes him promise he'll go to counseling. 

Lance falls asleep in his arms, tear-stained and exhausted, and Keith kisses his forehead and strokes his cheek with his thumb. 

He thinks of Coran, and the soulmate that was stolen from him. He's relieved his soulmate is Lance. It made it easier to find him. Though, honestly, even if they hadn't been friends, Keith reckons he would've found him anyway. 

He would cross the universe to watch Lance heal.

**Author's Note:**

> yikes i did an angst. goodnight im going to bed.


End file.
